Archive of Our Own ^beta

January 1986

Being dragged into the disabled bathrooms was not something Max Mayfield was expecting when she was finally let out of Spanish class. But here she is, standing frozen and confused as she processes the fact that someone just grabbed by the wrist and pulled her into this weirdly clean bathroom. (Still gross, but better than the girls bathroom.) She yanks her headphones down around her neck and shuts off her walkman. 

Her eyes scan the weird green walls of the lowly-lit bathroom trying to locate her potential attacker, when she spots a tall, black haired figure. 

He's standing against the wall with his navy blue hoodie tied around his waist. His shoulders are hunched and his arms are crossed over his chest. He looks a bit like he wants to melt into the floor. Mike Wheeler.

“What the fuck, Mike?” Max snaps, stepping closer to him as a scowl crosses her face. She’s relieved to know that she's not in danger, but she can't fathom why on earth Mike Wheeler of all people has basically abducted her.

“You scared the shit outta me.”

Mike takes in a shaky breath. He runs a hand through his grown out black hair. Since Lucas, Dustin and Mike started playing their nerd game with the Hellfire Club, Max has noticed Mike's style evolving. His clothes are darker and he's skipped hair cuts at least two months in a row now. 

“Sorry.” Mike mutters, weirdly subdued. He has been quieter since the Byers left, but the way he's acting right now is downright odd. He's clearly embarrassed and also seems a touch… scared.

Her mild outrage simmers down as she realises just how strange Mike is being. This is so out of character for the smug, outspoken, leader to be practically hiding in a corner. She sighs and reluctantly asks:

“Are you okay?”

Mike twists his watch around on his wrist, avoiding her gaze. Mike has always seemed a bit socially awkward to Max, but this is ridiculous. He's acting like Will, whom it took three months to speak to Max directly. (To be fair, he was recovering from literally being possessed.) 

“I– I need to ask a favour…” Mike finally utters, barely audible over the constant buzz of conversation on the other side of the bathroom door.

She's a little bit surprised that Mike is asking her for literally anything. Everyone knows they can hardly stand each other's presence. Mike thinks she's annoying, and has made a point to call her so on multiple occasions. Max thinks he's a bit obnoxious, and has also called him so on multiple occasions. She supposes they are friends, but she'd rather die than admit she cares about his well-being.

Max crosses her arms to try and block out some of the winter air pouring in the open window. As she shivers she waits for Mike to elaborate on what on earth he might want from her. She wonders why on earth he's gotta be so secretive about it, and so dramatic. Was a kidnapping attempt really necessary?

“Come on Wheeler, spit it out.” She huffs, checking her yellow watch and seeing that they’re already five minutes into lunch.

Mike shifts his weight from his left foot to his right before taking a deep breath in. He says something so soft and mumbly that Max can't make out a single word. 

“Mike, what?” She asks, eyebrows narrowing in a mixture of concern and confusion. “Speak up.”

Mike’s whole face has gone a shade of bright pink. He swallows audibly, and looks up at Max for the first time since he pulled her in here. His expression is something across between a deer in the headlights and a pained wince. Finally he asks in a hushed tone:

“Do you have a tampon?”

“WHAT!?” Max asks immediately, sure she heard him wrong. Did Mike Wheeler just ask about a tampon? A tampon!? Did he even know what a tampon was!?

Mike flinches and tries to back away, but just kind of stumbles against the wall. He slides down the grimy green wall to sit on the gross tiled floor, knees up to his chest. Max is stunned. She’s never seen him act this… off before. 

She cautiously takes a seat on the ground next to him, ignoring how disgusting and cold the off-white tiles are. She carefully rests her hand on his shoulder, not wanting to over step, but she can't just watch him in this state. She speaks in a much softer tone to her usual sharp and sarcastic infliction.

“What's going on, Mike?”

Mike remains quiet for a few moments, contemplating whether or not to say anything. He stares at the dirty toe caps of his converse, lost in a train of thought. He refuses to look Max in the eye.

“Look…” Max says in a tone that feels way too kind to be addressing Mike with, “You can… talk to me… if you need to?” She offers, the words feeling so foreign on her tongue. This is a tenderness reserved for phone calls with El, or late night chats with Lucas– before she broke up with him… anyway–

Mike twists his watch again, unsticking it from his wrist, then sliding it up and down a few times. He's always sort of fidgety like that. Restless. Although lately he's seemed more lost in his own head and twitchy than usual.

“Max…” Mike says softly, his face still quite red. “Please, if you have a spare tampon– or a pad –can I borrow one?” 

Max resists the urge to let out a noise of confusion, only because of how sincere Mike’s request is. She watches as his hands shake  and feels a deep sense of uneasiness settling in her stomach. The request is so out there, but is spoken so genuinely that she slides her backpack off her shoulder and reaches for the front pocket. 

The buzz of the opening zipper is what finally makes Mike turn his head towards her. She reaches inside and pulls out a pencil case-like pouch. She extends it carefully to Mike, but pauses before he takes it.

“I know it's not really… any of my business…” Max hesitates looking between Mike and the case, “But why do you need it?”

Mike lets out a defeated sigh and idly takes the black case from her. He pulls back the zipper and takes a single tampon from her stash, shoving the yellow-packaged stick into the pocket of his black jeans. It’s a few moments before he replies.

“Look… I'm… different.” Mike says quietly. Max watches as his fingernails dig into the palms of his hands. She feels a pang of nausea as he opens his palms again, red staining his nails. He doesn’t even flinch. She knows she's guilty of doing the same, but it's still sickening to see one of her friends do it. Even Mike.

“Different?” She asks, feeling a little numb as Mike’s shaking hands return the pouch to her.

Mike nods once. “When I was born… I had a different name. And… I–” He frowns in thought. “It’s sort of hard to explain…” He mumbles.

Max bites back a hundred questions swirling inside her brain in favour of gently patting Mike’s back. She never thought she'd see the day when she was comforting Mike Wheeler on the floor of the school bathroom. Then again, before she moved to Hawkins she'd never entertained the idea of evil government agents, alternate dimensions, or girls with superpowers. Maybe there were stranger things than Mike Wheeler needing a tampon.

“Basically… I'm a guy. In my head.” Mike says, his voice so hushed that if Max were sitting any further away she wouldn't be able to hear him at all. “But… not my body.”

Max sits in silence, a little stunned by this confession. Mike was a boy… but his body wasn't? She tilts her head in confusion, thinking over this strange concept. Mike… was born a girl, wasn't he? That's what he was saying.

She'd heard before of women who were born men. Transsexuals. They weren't very common, but she knew they existed. She furrows her brow in thought. She supposes if you can go from being a guy to being a girl, then it makes sense that Mike is the opposite. 

He did always seem a bit different to the other boys. For one, all last summer he'd refused to go swimming, even though it'd been like, a hundred degrees. The boys always waved it off as Mike hating exercise. Then there was the way that he would tense up in every health lesson. She assumed that he was just awkward, like Lucas who went pale at the mention of a period. 

Apparently there was a lot more to Mike Wheeler than meets the eye.

“Oh…” Max says quietly. “Yeah… okay.” She moves her arm to wrap around his shoulders. She feels the smooth fabric of a sports bra under his loose shirt. Oh. That's why Mike always wears oversized shirts, or heaps of layers.

“I know it's weird…” Mike says quietly. “But… it's just who I am.”

Max is struck by a pang of sympathy when he says that. His tone is so… forlorn. Pitiful. She can't help but feel sorry for him.

“It’s okay, Mike.” A small grin creeps onto her features. “This doesn't change anything. I still hate your guts.”

She's pleased when Mike lets out a shocked chuckle. An expression of feigned outrage crosses his face for a moment as he gently swats at her arm. Then his already white as a sheet face pales even further.

“I'd better– you know…” He says, gesturing to the bathroom stall. 

Max nods in understanding. She eyes the hoodie tied around his waist, realising what must have happened earlier. Mike had booked it out of Spanish like he was going to throw up. She stands up and offers him a hand to get off the filthy floor.

“Yeah, you'd better sort that out.” She says grimly.

Mike heads into the stall, locking the door behind him. Max notices a red patch all the way through his hoodie. She winces, knowing all too well what it feels like to be caught out like that.

“Want me to go get you a change of pants?” She asks through the door.

“That would be greatly appreciated…” Mike calls back “There's a bag in my locker.” She hears the familiar click of a tampon wrapper being twisted open, and takes that as her cue to go.

Mike’s locker isn't far from this bathroom. She pauses when she looks at the combination lock on the door. Shit. She doesn't know it. But if she had to make a wild guess… 2203. The lock pops open. 

“Will’s birthday.” She mutters under her breath. “So predictable.”

She grabs Mike’s black duffle bag from the shelf and slings it over her shoulder. When she slams the door shut, suddenly there's two faces standing in front of her.

“Ah!” Max gasps, startled by the sudden appearance of Lucas and Dustin. “What is it, national scare the shit out of Max day?” She mutters, scowling at the pair of boys in front of her.

“We were just looking for Mike!” Dustin says, folding his arms defensively. 

“He's busy.” Max says quickly, pulling Mike’s bag tighter over her shoulder. 

Lucas eyes the bag with curiosity, then his eyes widen and his dark cheeks fade a little. He swallows awkwardly, pulling at the sleeves of his coat.

“Oh.” 

Dustin looks between Lucas and Max, a baffled expression on his face. “What's Mike busy with? And why are you in his locker?”

“None of your business.” 

Max turns on her heel, and starts off towards the bathroom. She stops when Lucas's hand falls on her shoulder.

“Um… here.” He says, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a bar of Hersheys. He looks down at the ground, and Max has to bite back a laugh. “Give it to him.”

“Will do.” Max says, taking the chocolate bar and placing it carefully in the pocket of her jacket. 

She’s both touched by Lucas’s gesture to his friend, and also a little offended that he never gave her chocolate for her period when they were together. Dustin still looks utterly confused as Lucas drags him back to the cafeteria. Amused by his oblivion, she returns to the bathroom and slides the bag under the stall.

“Thank you.” Mike says softly as he finally emerges, taking his clothes straight to the sink to rinse them out. Unphased by the watered down scarlet, she stands by him at the sink, taking his rinsed jumper and squeezing as much water out of it as possible. Mike chucks the damp clothes in a plastic shopping bag then shoves it unceremoniously inside the duffel bag. Then he begins to scrub the red from his hands.

“Who else knows?” She asks quietly as Mike takes exactly three papers towels to dry his hands.

“My parents and Nancy…” Mike begins, listing on his freshly washed fingers. “Will, Lucas, El and Dustin.”

“So… Dustin does know?” She asks with a bit of a snort, choosing to ignore the fact that she was the last person in the party to find out. It makes sense after all, she and Mike aren't close.

“Yeah, but he forgets about it.” Mike says, a small smile on his lips. Max grins as they finally head out of the gross, freezing bathroom.

Mike returns his bag to his locker, then looks at Max with his eyebrows furrowed. “How'd you guess my combination?” 

“It wasn't even a challenge, Wheeler.” Max scoffs, then hands Mike the chocolate bar. “From Lucas.” 

Mike’s face breaks into a grin. He peels open the foil, then snaps the bar in half, handing a piece to Max. Stunned, she takes it from his hand.

“Uh… thanks?”

Mike snorts softly as he shoves the other half into his mouth in a disgustingly barbaric way. Not that she blames him, but still. Gross.

“It’s nothing.” Mike shrugs, mouth full of chocolate. Max screws up her nose in disgust.

“Boys are so gross.”